Arthur's starting to wonder whether anyone is going to answer the door as he stands there waiting. What if they've gone too? What if none of them have come back to Storybrooke. Arthur's quite certain he'd rather the fate Camelot had for him, than live her without them. He attempts to remind himself of his own impatience when the door swings open. It's not Merlin, however his heart near bursts at the sight of her, not that he has a moment to react, before her arms are flung around him and his arms find their way around her, Arthur practically burying his face into her shoulder as he holds her, breathing deep her familiar, comforting scent. As she drew back, he could see her eyes glisten, certain his light eyes must be the same, for how good it is to hear her voice, for the mere thought that he'd left her here at all, without a word.
He gently cups her face in his hands, stroking her cheek to try calm her, hold her gaze to see that he is not injured, that his breathing are strong and good. "No- No, I'm well." His voice catches, a little unexpectedly in his throat, for seeing all the distress he has caused her. "I promise. Better than I was before even." The fact he stands as he does is telling, the colour has returned to him, he is fit and well despite being close to death not hours before. "A healer found me." Magic had healed him, perhaps just as well he had in his last days come to accept it as a force of good. "Guinevere I'm so sorry- I never meant to leave here."